Monthly Archives: March 2017

One of the things we know for sure about Jesus is that he tried to divest people of the things they knew for sure. It’s our sureties that need to be dismantled before we can clearly see God’s work in our lives.

The disciples knew for sure that blindness (and all misfortune) was the result of sin somewhere in the family tree. In an uneasy world of sky-high infant mortality and the ever present violence of the Roman occupiers, it was comforting to assign some kind of sin to those who had huge challenges.

We can picture the disciples thinking, as they encountered the man blind from birth, “How horrible to have to navigate the world without sight. I must find a reason why he is blind and I’m not. I’ve got it! He must have sinned somewhere along the line. Thank God I’m not a sinner.”

Some contemporary ways in which we assure ourselves that bad things don’t happen to virtuous people might be: I wear my seat belt, so I’ll never have a catastrophic injury in a car crash. I’ve never smoked, so I’ll never get lung cancer. I made every sacrifice raising my kids in the faith, so of course they will love it and raise their kids in the faith too.

Except, of course, people with their seat belts firmly fastened die in car crashes, and non-smokers get lung cancer every day. And we’re all watching the culture lure this generation into a worldview that dismisses religious faith.

We can’t distance ourselves from pain and hope it never finds us. But this we know this for sure: Jesus is with us in blindness and in sight.

Is the Lord in our midst or not? Now there’s a question. Once they passed safely into the desert―with its challenges of hunger and thirst―the Hebrew slaves began questioning whether the Divine Power that parted the sea for them was really just all in their minds. Perhaps it was collective hysteria. But―ahem―how WAS it that they were now safely on the other side?

Isn’t that exactly how the life of faith goes? We position ourselves to receive every gift God pours out on us. We can name the thousands of ways God is gracious to us. But drought and fire, illness and heart-breaking death, war and starving refugees remain. Is the nearness of God just wishful thinking?

The reason the Church gives us that refrain from Psalm 95 so often―if today you hear God’s voice, harden not your hearts―is because every single day we can make a decision for or against the nearness of God.

We were sustained through the night and woke up feeling wonderful. Yes, God is near. The morning news is filled with images of terror and injustice all over the world. No, God is clearly not in our midst at all.

In our particular moment in history there are more and more baptized Christians transitioning to a place of a hardened heart. The world is too full of sadness for them to find a way to accept that there is a loving God “with us.”

The daily decision to not harden our hearts is exactly what is required of a believer. We don’t believe because the kingdom is fulfilled. We choose to wait in joyful hope―and work for justice every day― until it is.

Ah, Lent. The blessed season of do-overs. We need it so badly, and yet we dread its disciplines until it’s upon us. Then we sigh in relief that we have still another go at second chances. Sacraments are like that too. Each of them is God’s way of jump-starting us out of the wounds and missed marks that are making us miserable.

That’s what’s going on in today’s Genesis reading, when God calls Abram out of the blue and promises blessing upon blessing. Huh? Abram (whose name change to Abraham is a big clue that he gets a do-over) has never even heard of this God, and now is being called out of his homeland and told to take his wife Sarai (who also gets a do-over) into a land they didn’t even know existed.

This aging couple needed a second chance at life. They were childless, which meant that their name could not go forward into the future. But, miracle of miracles, this God was promising not only descendants, but a “great nation” that would not only be blessed but, even better, would BE a blessing for all ages.

Which would you rather know about your life, that you were blessed, or that you WERE a blessing? Think of the people―your children, your parents, your friends―who have brought blessing into your life. This would be the perfect week to tell them so. Even more perfect would be to tell your Jewish friends the ways in which they bless you. All these thousands of years later, observant Jews still pray every day that their name should be a blessing. They’ll be so happy to know that God’s promise continues.

I have an idea for you this Lent, and I got it from Jesus. He must have known, from an early age, that Satan had his eyes on him. He must have known that the powers of hell would lay in wait for him, and so Jesus filled his memory and soul with scripture.

He made sure that the scriptures were on his lips and his heart (Deut. 30: 14). He may even have worn sections of scripture around his left wrist and on his forehead when he prayed (Deut. 6:8).

That’s how, when the Liar accosted him in the desert, Jesus was ready for him. Turn these stones to bread? We don’t live on bread alone. Throw yourself down to show that you’re God? You shall not put God to the test. Bow down and worship me? The Lord alone shall you worship.

Are you ready for the temptations of this Lent? Hide your favorite scriptures in your heart. Or maybe you have some favorite hymns you want to memorize so you have them when you need God’s consolation. On long-distance trips my husband tapes the words to hymns on the steering wheel of his car, and works on memorizing them as he drives. Here are a few of my favorite scriptures, which I have on speed-dial every Lent: